


So devoted that you have no idea

by Scoby



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Era, Canon Universe, Din Djarin is a mess, F/M, Mandalorian Creed, Marriage Proposal, Past Polyamorous Omera, Possessive Din Djarin, Protective Din Djarin, Protective Grogu | Baby Yoda, The Mandalorian Darksaber (Star Wars)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 06:20:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29202738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scoby/pseuds/Scoby
Summary: “You mean, even if somebody wouldn’t threaten my life? You’d seriously kill a person for giving me a bruise?”“Any form of intentionally hurting you would be an unacceptable offence. Do you have a problem with that?”“Yes, I do.”“Then – I guess you should really think it through… before you say yes - or no.”She nods and swears in her mind.-----where Din returns to Sorgan to propose to Omera - only to find out that they have a very different concept of marriage...
Relationships: Bo-Katan Kryze & Omera, Din Djarin & Grogu | Baby Yoda, Din Djarin/Omera
Comments: 16
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter 1

This time, he flies past the town, over the woods, and lands straight outside of the village. The baby carriage follows by his side as he walks past the ponds to the group of sheds and huts behind them.

Before he reaches the hut he is heading for, a bunch of curious kids blocks his way. He picks the baby up from the carriage, puts him down on the ground and nudges him towards them.

“Go and play. I have adult stuff to take care of.”

He eagerly obeys and Din continues past the excited kids to the hut in the middle of the village. The door curtain is wide open, but he still opts for carefully knocking on the frame.

“Come in!”

His heart jumps somewhere to his throat when hearing her voice. But he cannot turn back now that she has noticed him. He has to go in.

“Oh, it’s you… I didn’t…” Omera says as she frantically wipes her hands into a towel to clean them from a sticky dough she has been kneading.

He walks further in, takes the towel from her hands and drops it down on the table beside her. Her mouth opens in surprise when he drops down on one knee, and then on the other. Then he sits down on his heels, hands on his thighs with palms up, and goes straight to his point:

“I’ve thought about you every day since I first saw you. And while I was away, I realised that you’re every star in the universe for me. I want to be fully yours if you’ll just have me. Will you marry me?”

Her astonished expression turns into a joyful smile.

“Sure! Why not? When shall we do it? Tonight?”

“What do you mean tonight? Wouldn’t it need some preparation?”

“Last time I got married, we decided about it one morning and the same evening we had a small party with the villagers and moved our hammocks to the same hut.”

She gestures towards the corner that now only houses her and Winta's hammocks.

“And then?”

“You know, all the normal stuff, living together, eating from the same pantry, spending most of the nights together...”

“Most?”

“Yeah. Isn’t that the point of marriage to choose one primary partner and sleep with others a bit less?”

“What? You mean… errr... Do you even know who Winta’s father is, like, biologically?”

He stands up and turns to look through the open window at the bunch of villagers who are busy washing krill shells and crushing them into large basins for dyeing yarns. One man is kneeling next to Winta to help her open a tight jar of dyeing salt.

“He’s 20% her father”, Omera says, pointing at him. “And he’s about 10%.” She points at another man who is walking past them, carrying a bucket with more salt jars. “My husband was around 40%, I think.”

“A child can only have one father.”

“What do you mean? Even if I slept with six men before she was born?”

“Only one of them can have conceived her.”

She laughs aloud. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard!”

“It’s true. It can be medically proven. Winta has DNA only from you and one man.”

“What’s DNA?”

“Never mind, have it your way. But then you should really think if you want me or not. Because if we get married, you won’t have sex with anyone else but me anymore.”

Omera scans the group of villagers and shrugs. She has not felt properly attracted to anyone of them after Winta was born. At first, older women told her that it was completely normal when so much of her attention was going to the baby. _Your desire will return, and stronger_ , her grandaunt said to her with a twinkle in her eye and wrinkles deepened into a playful smile.

For some reason, though, it never happened. Not until this Mandalorian walked into her barn, all shrouded in mystery and power and food for imagination. If she can have him, she does not really mind not having others. In fact, something about his blunt request sounds oddly intriguing: the thought of him being only hers.

“Would that apply to you, too?” she asks aloud.

“Of course. I’d absolutely devote myself to you. So completely that you have no idea. I’d protect you with my life and I wouldn’t spare the life of anyone who threatens or harms you.”

“You mean, even if somebody wouldn’t threaten my life? You’d seriously kill a person for giving me a bruise?”

“Any form of intentionally hurting you would be an unacceptable offence. Do you have a problem with that?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Then – I guess you should really think it through… before you say yes - or no.”

She nods and swears in her mind. Why does it have to go like this? When somebody finally catches her interest, why does he have to come with a baggage of unacceptable violence? She bites her lower lip and thinks of another approach.

“Let’s say I say no…”

She steps closer to him and sneaks her hand under his arm to find an unarmoured patch. Slowly, she slides her hand down his side until she can slip her thumb under his belt and curl her fingers against his hip.

“…is there a more casual way we can go about this?”

She can hear how his breath hisses under his helmet. He clasps the back of her hand but pauses there. For a moment, Omera’s heart races, unsure if he is going to lead her on or push her hand away. Eventually, he chooses the latter, takes a step back and says in a breathy but determined voice:

“No. The only way you’ll get to see me without armour or call me by my real name is as my wife.”

“Where do all these rules come from?”

“The Mandalorian Creed.”

She nods in understanding. “Fair enough. Anything else I should know when I – think it through?”

“Just in case it’s different for you here, the Creed considers marriage a lifetime commitment.”

Now she gapes in shock.

“So it’s different for you, then”, he says.

“Well, in my case, that’s how it ended up when my husband was killed by the Klatooinians. And sure it happens to others, too, that they just fit together so well that they stay married until death. But to commit for lifetime on the day of getting married… I’ve never even seen your face! And more importantly, we have no idea how our life together would go. I don’t know how many half-innocent people you’ll end up murdering for me! You realise you’re asking quite a lot, right?”

She paces back and forth and her voice keeps rising and tightening.

“You can ask, too”, he says. “Let’s go for a walk.”

Omera agrees and they exit the hut and stroll out of the village and into the forest in silence. When she appears visibly relaxed, Din asks:

“Is there something you want to ask?”

“What species are you?”

“Human.”

“What age?”

“36.”

“Gender?”

“Male.”

“Is that your real voice or is it modulated?”

“Very close.”

The information puts her more at ease. She notices how she has fallen in love with his tone that sounds like a primal form of music. Her worst fear has been that he has completely covered not only his face but his real voice, too. Knowing that she has been hearing him almost for real all the time is a comfort in the midst of other things between them that seem to be rapidly forming a chaos. The only thing she can do to untangle some of the mess is to ask more questions, despite the fear of stirring it up even more.

“Do you want more kids?”

“I’m not sure”, he answers. “Do you?”

“No.”

“Then I don’t.”

She has to laugh a little. “That much was easy. Where do you want to live?”

“Here would be very nice. But I’d have to travel for jobs every once in a while.”

“I want to travel with you.”

“That’s out of the question, Omera! Do you have any idea how dangerous it would be?”

“I know what bounty hunters do.”

“There’s more to it. If I marry you, it’ll make you the most powerful weapon anyone can use against me. Because nothing would stop me from protecting you.”

“I can defend myself. And I can be useful. I can protect you, too.”

When Din is about to protest, she lifts her palm up to silence him and says: “Think about it. Just like I’ll think about everything you asked. My next question: since you’d be Winta’s stepfather, could she see your face and use your real name?”

“She’d be part of my family, so yes, that would be ok, at home.”

She lets out a breath she was holding. That does give a pinch of hope that they could live as something that would still resemble a normal family. As they walk in a meandering arch through the forest, gradually back towards the village, Omera goes through several additional questions to find out things like his favourite colour (purple), favourite food (oi-oi berry flavoured ration bar), favourite animal (akk dog) and favourite leisure activity (swimming).

By the time they reach her home, Omera is out of questions but still not any closer to feeling ready to decide. Sleeping over it does not bring any clarity either. The next day, and the day after it, she still feels torn apart equally by the pull towards him and the horror of binding herself into a system that could cause other people to die casually like expendable cattle.

Sure, she has killed others herself, but only Klatooinians who directly threatened lives in her community. Having the same principle applied on people who might be unarmed and just have caused her however ridiculously small harm… The thought is disgusting enough to make her shiver.

After she has grappled with the mess in the head for four days, Din finally says:

“Looks like it could help if you’d get more time to think, without me being around. I’ve been quested to bring the child to his kind, and there are still people after him, so we should be going anyway. I’ll be back when I’m done.”

Omera suddenly grasps his hands and squeezes them tight enough for her skin to sink faintly into the fabric of his gloves. Her voice is shaking like with invisible tears.

“Remember to think about what I asked.” A lone tear falls down her cheek. “Because this I don’t want to do ever again – to stay here and wait for you and worry my heart sick. I want to be where you are, so that every day I can hear your heartbeat and know that you’re with me.”

Omera is quick to brush off the tear and swap her expression to a smile to say goodbye to the child. But as Din lifts him up and backs away towards his ship, she looks at him again with so heart-wrenching longing that his stomach seems to turn hollow and his eyes well up with tears.

He really should not torture himself anymore by looking back once more from the boarding ramp, but he does it anyway, and seeing her cry makes his own tears break loose. They are already in hyperspace when he realises that he never buckled up the child in his own seat but is still clinging to him in his arms.

* * *

It is pouring rain when the strange ship lands outside the sphere of ponds. Omera hangs a blaster on her belt when she sneaks closer to have a look, ready to raise an alarm if the worst happens. Several other villagers have joined her, all signalling each other to stay under as much cover as possible, just in case.

But only one man walks out of the ship. And then Omera drops all caution and runs because she can recognise most of his silhouette and how the familiar rifle is slung across his back. But when she gets closer, she slows down because what is different is that his helmet is missing and he looks – devastated.

She lifts her arms towards him in an attempt to do something to sooth him, but he falls straight through them down on the muddy ground on both knees.

“I’ve decided. Tell me what you want and you can have it all. Just please, marry me, Omera.”

She sits down on her heels next to him and curls her hands around his knees. “I only want you to promise that you won’t kill anyone for me, unless it’s the only possible way to prevent them from killing me. And I want to travel with you wherever you go.”

“Deal.”

Her smile spreads her cheeks that have strands of hair glued over them by the rainwater. But quickly, she turns serious again because his heart is still heavy with something he has not told her.

“There’s something you should know before you decide”, he starts. “Something’s come up.”

He releases the hilt of the Darksaber from his belt and ignites it through the air between them. A shaft of bright light, swallowed by darkness in the middle, sparkles in the dusk. Little puffs of steam spring out of the blade when raindrops hit it. The villagers watching them move closer, hands crawling towards their blaster triggers in preparation to defend Omera if necessary.

“What’s that?” she asks.

He shuts off the blade and stores the hilt on his belt again, making their audience relax.

“I won it. According to the legend, its wielder can lay claim to the throne of Mandalore.”

“So…?”

“If you marry me now, it will make you the Queen of Mandalore.”

“Dank farrik…” Omera covers her face in her hands. “If you only knew how much I’ve dreamed of having just you. Why does something else always have to come attached to you?”

“Look, this situation is not my favourite either.”

“Then why did you take that thing?”

“I had to fight for it to save the kid. But then he went away to learn to be a Jedi. So I… I lost him, and the Creed, and my ship, everything. I tried to give up the Darksaber to the real heir to the Mandalorian throne, but she wouldn’t accept it without winning it in a combat that would comply with the legend. So I can’t get rid of it without fighting my friend, which I’m not going to do. And now that the word goes around that the Darksaber is back with the Mandalorians, everyone’s going to be anxious for us to take our planet back and wait for me to lead it. There’s going to be so much politics and fighting, and after that, all the bureaucracy of dealing with the galactic authorities.”

He takes her hands in his own and looks up, straight into her eyes for the first time.

“Omera, last time I asked you only because I was in love. Now I really need you by my side. You can keep me sane through all of this. Maybe ruling Mandalore is not the favourite choice for either of us, but I’m so sure that together we’ll figure it out. Please, will you marry me?”

She brushes her thumbs over his gloved knuckles, then squeezes his hands tighter, breaks into a disarming grin and says:

“Yes!”

He picks up her smile, and for an awkwardly long moment they just stare at each other in sudden bliss.

“Can I kiss you now?” Omera breaks the silence.

“I told you, you can have everything you want.”

He has barely finished when she is already climbing into his lap, legs straddled around his thighs and spreading more mud on them, arms enclosed tight around his shoulders. When she clashes her mouth against his, they can hear a chorus of cheers around them.


	2. Chapter 2

The covers and Omera’s body are all warm and fragrant. The corner of her mouth has a trail of drool that begs for kisses, and the softness of her hair is obviously the best place in the universe for Din’s nose to sink in. There is absolutely no point in rolling away from her and sitting up in the cooler air outside of the covers.

But he does it anyway, because of a buzzing holotransmitter. He rubs the remaining sleep from his eyes and puts on his undershirt from the floor before accepting the call. A blue, translucent projection of Bo-Katan springs to life and glares at him.

“When are we taking back Mandalore?” she asks.

Din runs a hand through his ruffled hair and sighs.

“When?” Bo-Katan presses on. “We’ve got ships, weapons, rations, and I’ve made contact with dozens of Mandalorians scattered in the galaxy. Many of them have said that they can recruit more.”

“That’s very productive.”

“Well, I was preparing for years to lead this myself. So you might understand that it’s a high time to get this done.”

“Listen, I just got married. Could this wait for one more month? It’s not like the planet is going anywhere, is it?”

Bo-Katan’s expression softens, almost down to a smile. “Congratulations. We can start in one standard month.”

“Thank you, that’s generous. I appoint you as a General for this mission. You can do any preparations you find fitting in the meanwhile.”

“I accept with gratitude. Though there’s not much I can do anymore. People are anxious to get our planet back and believe that we have a chance, but they’ll only follow the wielder of the Darksaber.”

“I understand. I promise we’ll get to it.”

Bo-Katan nods and closes the transmission. Din props his elbows on his knees, leans his head on his hands and sighs. He stays there, mind wandering through scenarios for how terribly everything could go wrong. He is not scared of the fighting, unless Omera will insist on being a part of it. Even if he can somehow keep her out of it, there is still the part of leading an army, which he has never done. And if they succeed, there will be the most stressful part of leading a planet.

Din massages his temples with his fingertips and urges his mind to get back to taking one thing at a time. First, keeping Omera out of the fight. Right as he thinks about her, he feels her hand touching his back and tracing a few slow circles before crushing the fabric of his shirt in a fist and pulling him backwards. He gladly accepts and leans back, resting his head on Omera’s belly while she strokes his hair. When he turns to his side and presses his ear against her skin, the quiet rumbles in her stomach turn into fascinating, loud music.

“Is the mission bothering you?” she asks.

“A lot.”

“We’ll take one thing at a time, right? And I think the first thing to do is something else.” She brings her free hand over his cheek and brushes his lower lip with her thumb.

“Will you at least please stay out of it?” he begs because that is all he has power for.

“You told me I can have everything I want. And you might need me. But don’t worry about it now. One thing at a time.”

She wiggles herself away from under his head so that she can kiss him. A few light kisses, and he is still seeing a vivid image of a blaster shot shattering her face. Her teeth nip on his lips, and the shot in the image moves to the side of her head, only scratching her ear but leaving her alive. She dives in for devouring his whole mouth in a deeper kiss, and the whole image grows fainter in his head. By the time her lips move to his neck, he has completely forgotten there is any future to worry about.

* * *

“I still have no idea what to say to them.” Din paces back and forth across the hut. He is wearing his full armour and helmet for the first time after the wedding and feels – at home again.

Spending a full month without it was like a dream, full of heightened sensations: the wind on his neck; everyday objects in his bare hands; the tickles when Winta blows a raspberry on his arm; the cool embrace of water everywhere when he dives in a pond; hugs and friendly pats from villagers, the softness of soil under his bare feet; and blissful entanglement with Omera’s warm, sweaty body that he cannot get enough of.

For the first days, every new little touch made him tense up like it threatened his life. But he grew used to one sensation at a time. Still, the familiar space inside his armour is where he feels the most secure, at least for doing stuff like a holotransmission to all the Mandalorians Bo-Katan has tracked down.

Yesterday, they commed for a long time, and Bo-Katan patiently explained him that the curse on Mandalore was nothing more than a belief of The Watch. She had researched the reality on the planet by sending scouting droids that did not return but managed to send intel before their self-destruction activated due to too many obvious threats. She showed him all the evidence that the Empire had just been dumping on the planet all their disqualified droids with compliance issues. No restraining bolts, all control functions turned off. The algorithms that encouraged learning, development and will for domination had been amped up to ensure that the droid community would take control of the planet independently without the need for the Empire to ever bother with it again.

To Din, that did not sound very different from a curse. But Bo-Katan had done an extensive analysis about all the weak points where they could strike and all the precautions they should take. Broken down into a plan like that, the mission started to sound like something that had a faint chance of not wiping out all the remaining Mandalorians once they set foot on their own planet again. Now, the only missing thing is the people to execute the plan – people who accept only one ruler.

“I haven’t been to Mandalore. I have no idea how it was before the Purge or what we’ll do with the planet if we get it back now. I still don’t know if I care to find out.” Din continues pacing and clenches his hands into fists.

“Why don’t you just tell them what’s real for you?” Omera asks.

“What if that’s not exactly – inspiring?”

“Truth is always inspiring. Besides, you’ve got the Darksaber. What else can they do but follow you?”

Din stops in his tracks and pauses to think. But he is not given much time for that before the holotransmitter buzzes. He takes a deep breath and clicks Bo-Katan’s projection into appearance.

“Ready?” she asks but leaves him no chance to answer before continuing: “You’re live in three, two, one, now.”

Then, Din does not see anyone but knows that a lot of people are seeing him. And listening to him. Though now they are hearing nothing because he has nothing to say. He closes his eyes and tries to imagine them. Maybe they live all on different planets and have adopted the local ways and let the Mandalorian Way sleep. But right now, he imagines them around him like in the covert he used to call home, even though it stirs up the endless rage at how that whole community was destroyed.

“Brothers and sisters”, he finally starts. “I’ve never seen Mandalore, only heard stories. But I’ve seen enough of Mandalorians suffering and being hunted like animals. And I know it’s time for that to end and us to reclaim our planet, because this is back with us.”

He lights up the Darksaber next to his helmet-covered face.

“We’re stronger together, no matter how much our enemies try to separate us. And now they’ll see it. Because we’re gathering in five standard days on Phindar. The coordinates are sent to you at the end of this message. Prepare for possibly a long siege. Take as much weapons and rations are you can. But don’t stay behind even if you can’t bring anything, because there will be stocks and we have channels to replenish. It will take time to re-establish agriculture and other life support on Mandalore, but over the coming years, we’ll do it. Because that planet rightfully belongs to us. I… I…”

His voice breaks as he struggles to get more words out.

“I used to raise a foundling. For a while. Before I reunited him with his own kind. I know how much you want a place in this galaxy for your kids to grow up safe and free. We can do that on Mandalore. Not without a fight, but that’s what we’re born for.”

He pauses and shuts off the Darksaber before finishing with: “I’ll see you in person in five days. This is the Way.”

* * *

471 days in Mandalore’s orbit. Nearly a hundred Mandalorians on two cruisers. They started with more, but already dozens have died at their attempts for planetfall. And they have only caused minor damage to the droid community that has got way out of hands on the ground.

They have seen battle droids in various shapes and sizes, ignoring any galactic standards after spending years on their own and free to make their own adjustments. Some have joined their bodies and circuits together into a superorganism that crushes beskar-clad bodies like insects inside their shells. Those who manage to escape are chased back to their cruisers on the orbit but never beyond. Apparently, the droids are confident in their ability to outlast organic beings in a siege and enjoy seeing them suffer in their attempt.

Omera has not been on any of the ground excursions, but she has spent a fair share of time in the cannon rooms shooting at droid ships that venture out of the atmosphere in pursuit. She has hit countless of times but never caused significant damage. In fact, she has started to feel that she keeps seeing the same droids appear again and again, after they have repaired themselves using the planet’s abundant mining resources.

Most of the time, though, she is able to suck up the despair and hold her head as high and unemotional as the crowd of Mandalorians surrounding her. Only on occasional days like this, she finds herself in the General’s quarters, staring out at the cursed planet in the middle of starry emptiness, vision blurred by tears of rage.

It started around noon with the docking of an unknown ship. The pilot claimed that it was a food shipment and was let in, though greeted with an array of blasters ready to fire, since no food shipment was expected according to the logs. When the ship was searched, the squad on hangar duty discovered that it indeed was a food shipment, with large containers full of blue, crunchy chips. As no toxic substances were found on scans, they were served in the mess at dinner, as a welcome addition to the tiny portion of rations that everyone had been eating for months.

All their food suppliers from the beginning had stopped their shipments one by one with various explanations, though only few of them said aloud what probably was behind all of their decisions: it was getting politically questionable to get so involved in the Mandalorians’ quest, since they seemed to make no progress and still refused to back away. The remaining stock was heavily rationed, and month by month, everyone’s cheeks were getting hollower.

Only three blue chips were dealt out per person to avoid any complications from eating too much after nearly fasting for a long time. But those were greasy and tasty and felt like hearty after going with so little for such a long time. As soon as Din laid eyes on them on his plate, though, he recognised what they were and stormed out of the mess to have a look at the stock. He eventually returned but finished eating in icy silence. As soon as he was alone with Omera in their quarters, he punched the door shut, slammed his helmet from his hands on a table and glared at her.

“Was it you who smuggled dried krill here?”

She avoided his gaze and tried to make herself busy reorganising a shelf, but he walked right up to her and gently but firmly pulled her hands down.

“Answer me, Omera.”

“It was a gift”, she said, still refusing to look him in the eye.

He let go of her hands and paced across the floor in frustration. “Did you see the size of that stock? That’s almost half of the whole harvest! What are the people in the village going to eat? What’s Winta going to eat?”

Fury stirred up in Omera, and she finally faced him and stepped closer. “They have nothing to worry about! Their planet is fertile. The woods are full of plants to eat. On bad years, people mix wood flour in their bread.”

“Do you have any idea about how huge debt this is putting us in?”

“I already told you it was a gift. They want to help the Mandalorians regain their home after you helped them keep theirs.”

“That was already paid for.”

They had drifted closer, until they were face to face, both with their feet planted apart and eyes burning with rage.

“Look, I’ve tried my best to have respect for your Way, but if it causes you to refuse a gift that could save your people from starvation, I can only conclude that it’s plain stupid!”

“But you don’t have to worry about starvation. I’ll always make sure you have enough to eat.”

His voice turned softer. And Omera could easily believe that he was telling the truth. Undoubtedly under Din’s orders, the kitchen staff kept trying to sneak extra portions on her plate, even though she insisted on refusing all of them.

“Din, you can’t have different standards for me and others.”

“Of course I can. You’re my wife. My Queen.” He laid a hand softly on her wrist and traced up her arm and down her back, pulling her closer.

“Don’t try to distract me.”

“Then what do you want me to say?”

“That you… Never mind. How about a timeout?”

“How long?”

“I don’t know yet. Maybe until morning.”

Din sighed but nodded. Spending nights alone always made him worry that this time they had broken something that could not anymore be repaired. But eventually, like magic, a timeout worked every time when non-negotiable differences broke out between them. In the morning, she would be back, all smiles and hugs and kisses, and they would both forgive each other once more.

Pushing his luck, Din already leaned in for at least the smallest possible kiss – something to hold on to during the long hours of wondering if Omera would ever be back. She still frowned but turned a cheek for him to kiss before walking out and closing the door after herself.

By now, she has relived the whole argument several times and wailed her heart out about everything she hates about Din, this mission, this ship, the Mandalorian Way, the planet that is so close behind the viewport but still so unreachable. And Bo-Katan has listened patiently, with no interruptions, no reasoning, only understanding.

“You know what’s crazy?” Omera wipes off most of her tears and suddenly feels more like laughing. “How much I still love him. I don’t know how somebody can drive me so mad but still be like a home to me; like I can’t imagine life without him; like I want to give him everything and still more.”

She pauses and blows her nose so loud that they both laugh. Omera leaves the viewport and walks up to Bo-Katan to hug her. It never feels exactly comfortable because she is always covered up to her neck in beskar, but it still does offer some relief in the midst of a metallic ship floating in cold and empty space.

“It was all so good as long as we were on my planet. Life is just plain good there. Not all these responsibilities and stuff to constantly make him snap.”

“You know he could be free any time, right? I can win the Darksaber from him if he’ll just fight me.”

“I know. I’ve tried to talk to him. Tried to suggest it nicely. Tried to yell. It’s apparently one more honour-related thing to not fight his friend. So I guess we’re stuck with this situation until you find a way to really piss him off.”

“Easier said than done. He’s practically turning into teflonite when he’s around me.”

“We’ll figure something out, sooner or later.” Omera smiles with infectious hope. “In the meanwhile, can I sleep here for the night?”

“Of course. N2-17, make the spare bed ready for the Queen.”

“Yes, General.” A droid lights up in the corner and rolls out to open a spare bed from the bedroom wall and arrange linen on it.

After Omera has commed Winta, like she does every evening, and she and Bo-Katan have both snuggled under their covers, they still lay awake for a couple of hours. With quiet voices in the darkness, they chat about everything possible that is beautiful and outside of this ship.


	3. Chapter 3

The next time an unknown ship arrives, Din’s first reaction is to raise an eyebrow at Omera. But she looks equally, genuinely astonished, and then worried when the guard reports:

“The pilot is not responding. Shall we shoot?”

Din stares at the approaching ship the guard is showing him on the monitor. They were just preparing for another planetfall with a larger crew, aiming to make it the final one. Since the droids on the ground have been learning things about them all the time and apparently formed algorithms of their tactics, no matter how much they have tried to confuse them, this might be just the time when they somehow anticipate a move and send a small ship to blow them up instead. In that case, they have made it travel a long detour to make it arrive not from the direction of the planet but from outer space.

But the guard points at another reading on the monitor.

“There’s one life form on board. I don’t know who would come after us like this. But I’ve followed our protocol: asked three times and threatened that we’ll shoot if they do not respond. Shall we shoot?”

The ship is close enough now for Din to see it clearly even through the viewport of the bridge. It is no cargo ship, and no fighter, rather a small shuttle. And as clearly as he can see it, his heart is suddenly filled with an answer:

“No, let it in the hangar. I’m going there. Omera, can you take over the prep for planetfall? They should be almost done with loading soon and you can proceed to phase two.”

“Of course.” She kisses him briefly before he buries his head in his helmet and runs out.

He makes it to the hangar right as the strange shuttle lands next to the array of ships that are in the process of being loaded with explosives and troops ready to invade the planet. Majority of the hangar crew have already stopped the loading work and surrounded the small ship with their blasters pointed at it. Din’s hand lazily reaches for his own on his belt, but no matter how much he tries to reason that an unidentified ship is most likely a threat, his heart is increasingly sure that this one is not.

As the boarding ramp opens, the surrounding blasters focus towards it and fingers tense on the triggers in preparation, until everyone finds themselves aiming at a tiny creature with green skin and pointy ears in almost the size of its head, clad in a brown cloak and under that, a lighter tunic with a V shaped neckline and a belt with a silvery hilt attached. From age-old stories and holos, the Mandalorians recognise an enemy’s clothing and weapon.

“A Jedi?” one of them gasps and adjusts his blaster to aim sharper, but Din is quick to shout:

“Don’t shoot!”

The helmet-covered faces turn sceptically towards him, but he emphasises his point with a gesture of pressing his hand down, and the hangar crew obeys by lowering their blasters.

Din runs the rest of the way towards the ship, but the creature is also running with its little legs and meets him half-way. He kneels down to scoop it in his arms and squeeze against his chest. Although he remembers right away that he should not squeeze because his armour does not exactly feel comfortable. So he opts for removing his helmet and pressing half of his face on top of the wrinkly head covered in faint hairs that he has missed so much. He is just about to break out in tears when he hears a familiar sound that is a mixture of a coo and a giggle.

“Grogu, I missed you”, he manages to say aloud, though it comes out as not much more than a whisper.

Din lifts his head to look into the overly large, dark eyes that have been on his mind every day, feeding the constant worry about if Grogu is safe and happy. And for the moment, he seems to be both. That makes Din smile a little, and then, for the first time, he hears something Grogu says in words.

Though it does not exactly come in through his ears. Somehow, Grogu seems to push into his heart the feeling of how much he has missed him, too.

“But why are you here?” Din asks.

Grogu half shuts his eyes in concentration, and Din feels how he sensed that they were going to do make their final attempt to take over Mandalore and that they needed his help.

“No, Grogu, I can’t let you down there to the atmosphere. It’s too dangerous.”

Grogu looks back at the Mandalorians who are now staring at them. Even those who were working on loading the ships have paused.

 _Dangerous for them if I don’t go along_ , Din feels him saying.

He opens his mouth to say another argument, but Grogu lifts his hand and waves it in a small arc through the air, and whatever Din was going to say completely dissolves from his mind. In its place, there is only reasoning why it would be very smart to let Grogu join in the mission. He has always been special and powerful, and now that he has had more training, he could really be just what they need to finally end this siege.

“Change of plans”, Din tells their audience. “He’s coming with you. Which means that so am I. The Queen will take care of the bridge.”

“We throw in with a Jedi?” one of them asks, tilts her head sceptically and steps forward to have a closer look at Grogu.

Din turns him in his arms so that she can see the mythosaur skull pendant hanging from Grogu’s neck.

“He’s also a Mandalorian foundling”, Din explains.

“Your foundling?” the woman asks.

“Yes.”

“Jedi killed all my grandparents”, she insists, eyes flicking between Grogu’s necklace and face.

“And now one can save you, so you’ll do as I say and get on the ship. This is the Way.”

“This is the Way.” She drops all argument and walks straight into a ship along with everyone else assigned for planetfall.

Din follows them with Grogu still on his arm. Only when he hears Omera’s command for all the ships to take off and they drift out into space and towards Mandalore’s atmosphere, the thought hits him: Why is he here with Grogu when they are going to the most dangerous place he can imagine?

But when he looks down, Grogu only blinks and snuggles into a more comfortable position between his arm and chest.

The ship rattles as they enter the outskirts of the atmosphere, and a patrol of droid ships comes to view to meet them.

“General, pull them away”, Omera’s voice says from the bridge through the ship’s comm channel. “Explosive squadron, push through to the big one.”

“Copy that”, Bo-Katan’s voice says from the neighbouring ship.

She has to make a few loops with a major part of their fleet, as the droids refuse to split up. But after shooting them enough to make their flying wobbly, they revert to a tighter formation and take the bite. Din immediately orders his own and the few other remaining ships down towards the ground. Already from high up in the skies, they can see the droid superorganism that has stopped their every attack so far.

This time, though, they have more ships than before. They position three of them to fire at the superorganism, which appears, from up close, like a droid equivalent of a beehive: countless of individuals bundled up together and moving as a creepily organised, deadly mass.

Under the cover of the shooting ships, Din tries to make a cautious approach, but they quickly discover that their firepower is not worth much. The hive barely trembles. Instead, it launches individual droids out of its communal body into a counter-attack.

But right before those can reach the Mandalorian ships and crush them, something stops them in the air. And at the same time, their hive is frozen in place, swaying back and forth when trying to move, but not moving anywhere.

“What’s this?” Din’s pilot gapes in astonishment.

Din looks down and notices how the little being in his arms is holding his hands out towards the communal droid, eyes nearly closed, just like Din has seen him do many times on single objects. Now, he must be tuning into something in the shared circuitry of the individual droids, or then he has learned to control a multitude of entities at the same time.

“Approach, quick”, he tells the pilot who immediately steers up to the superorganism. When they are close enough, Din sets Grogu down on the floor of the cockpit.

“Just hold it as long as you can. We’ll be right back.”

They open the boarding ramp and Din jumps out on the rigid arm of an assassin droid that is sticking out of the hive. Most of the crew follows him and they scatter around, finding holds in various droid parts to climb up to different spots and sow an array of bombs in their wake.

They are still scattered when the droids they are holding onto start springing back to life. Din glances down and sees Grogu through the cockpit viewport, still reaching out with his arms but apparently struggling because the community is breaking free of his control.

“Everyone back to the ship!” he shouts, and others quickly follow, while droids keep grabbing, punching, shooting and flaming them, each according to their own functions. Some are spraying out thick clouds of smoke that block their vision. In the end, they have to take the risk of jumping towards the direction of the ship without seeing it.

Then, the superorganism recovers its full function, because Grogu lets go of trying to hold it back and focuses instead on helping to direct falling Mandalorians through the Force to hit their ship. Once everyone is on the boarding ramp, they do not even wait to close it before speeding out, right as the droid hive crashes one large limb-like extension down on the spot.

Inside the ship, one of their gunners presses the detonator, and the whole symbiosis of droids explodes.

Din finds Grogu in the cockpit. He has not fallen asleep like he always used to do after feats like this. But he is slouching on the floor, looking exhausted. Din sits down next to him and rubs a hand against his back.

“Well done, kid”, he says, and feels an echo-like equivalent of _I told you so_.

Through the comm system, they hear Bo-Katan’s voice once more: “We’ve chased up all the flying droids. I can see patrols here and there moving on the ground, but they shouldn’t be able to hold us back for long. What shall we do?”

A noisy signal fills the comm channel for a while. Shortly, Din realises that Omera is laughing on the bridge.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but proceed to landing”, she orders.

Just like Bo-Katan predicted, it does not take them long to destroy the remaining, scattered droid patrols. After that, the cruisers land and swallow the smaller ships into the clean air inside. Next, they will start the long process of constructing domes that filter out the toxic gases in the air like their helmets, and eventually restoring farmland and building a city. But for now, they are simply content of being on the planet of their legends, many of them for the first time.

Din picks up Grogu and carries him out to the hangar and then towards the mess. He will first get him to eat something, and then people will probably expect a speech from him, but it can luckily be short because everyone is easy to make happy now. Then, he will be free to eat himself, get an N2 unit to make a bed for Grogu in their quarters, and eventually, he will be alone with Omera and slowly peeling off her clothing and dipping his fingers in…

He is shocked out of his own thoughts when he remembers whom he is carrying.

“Errr, Grogu? The thing that you can do to show me what’s on your mind, can you see into my mind the same way?”

 _I could. But I won’t look without permission_ , Grogu wordlessly responds.

“Good”, Din sighs in relief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm stopping here for now, so that I can finish this for the [Mandomera week](https://mandomeraweek.tumblr.com/). I might add one more chapter later, though. After all, HEA on Mandalore is nice, but HEA on Sorgan would be the holy grail

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks for any kudos/comments :)  
> Also, welcome to follow me on [Tumblr](https://iamscoby.tumblr.com/)


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